


Of Wizards and Vigilantes

by BananasofThorns



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Frank Castle is a good bro, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Seriously this was supposed to be angsty what happened, Thanks to the doctor strange discord for the idea, kinda I guess?, oh well?, thinly veiled flirting, though the prompt was much angstier than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 18:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: “I believe I have some cracked ribs and I’m probably too cold and have lost too much blood,” the man stated matter-of-factly. He blinked at a space beside Frank’s head. “And I think I have a minor concussion.” That was all the warning Frank got before he collapsed.Luckily, he was already close to the ground, but falling back onto concrete certainly did nothing to help the concussion. A moment later the man’s eyes blinked open, but they were still a bit unfocused.“Perhaps it’s a bit more than minor,” The man said. Frank rolled his eyes.





	Of Wizards and Vigilantes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm going to disappoint some people in the Doctor Strange discord because this was not as angsty as they wanted, but oh well. At least I wrote something?

Frank walked into the next room in the building, gun raised. He paused, taking in the scene before him. A beat-up looking man in tattered, bloodstained robes (were they robes?) was facing off with two henchmen, his back to several scared-looking hostages. Both of the men he was facing had guns. The man was holding nothing, but his hands were contorted into a complicated pattern. Orange sparks flickered in and out of existence.

Frank quickly shot the first of the two henchmen in the head and he collapsed. The man with the sparks stared at the body, a look of horror and revulsion on his face. He practically fell to the ground, catching himself on his hands with a pained yelp. When he looked up at Frank, however, there was a spark of defiance in his ocean eyes.

Frank pointed his gun at the second henchman, only to mutter an annoyed curse as a baton smacked into his hand and clattered to the ground.

“What the fu- Red!” Frank spat, exasperated.

“No killing,” Red said. Frank rolled his eyes.

“Altar boy,” he growled, shooting the henchman in the shoulder as he raised his gun. The man flinched away from the sound and Frank mentally kicked himself.

“Hey,” he said, softer, as Red knocked the man out. Frank knelt down, placed his gun on the ground, and raised his hands placatingly. “It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. Frank sighed.

“What’s your name?”

The man’s mouth moved wordlessly and he huffed. He made another hand gesture and Frank tried not to stare at the scars lining his fingers. There was a whoosh, like a breeze had rushed through the room, and the man nodded in satisfaction.

“I had that under control. You didn’t have to kill him.” Frank narrowed his eyes when the man ignored his question.

Red looked up from where he was directing the other hostages to safety. “ _ Thank _ you!” Frank flipped him off. The man breathed out a laugh and then winced, pressing a hand to his chest.

“I believe I have some cracked ribs and I’m probably too cold and have lost too much blood,” he stated matter-of-factly. He blinked at a space beside Frank’s head. “And I think I have a minor concussion.” That was all the warning Frank got before he collapsed.

Luckily, he was already close to the ground, but falling back onto concrete certainly did nothing to help the concussion. A moment later the man’s eyes blinked open, but they were still a bit unfocused. Red led him over to the wall and propped him up.

“Perhaps it’s a bit more than minor,” The man said. Frank rolled his eyes.

“Jesus,” he muttered, stuffing his gun back into its holster and walking over. “You’re almost as bad as Red.”

Red frowned. “Hey!”

The man ignored them both. “Could I maybe get some...medical attention?”

Red muttered a curse. “Right. Is there someone we can call?”

The man paused as if he was thinking. After a moment he said, “I think they took my phone. And my sling ring.” His  _ what _ ? “And Wong is gone for the week, so...can’t call him. You could drop me off at the Avengers’ tower?” He said, but it was phrased more like a question. Frank frowned at him.

“Who the hell  _ are _ you?”

“Depends on who you ask, but I believe Doctor Strange will do for now.” He waved a hand at Frank’s questioning gaze. “Don’t worry about it. I’m kind of like the Avengers’ resident wizard.” Which clarified absolutely nothing, but they had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Well, the Avengers certainly aren’t fond of  _ me _ ,” Frank grumbled. “Red?”

Red frowned. “I think I have Hawkeye’s number?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Great.”

Stephen interrupted them again. “Just call him and tell him to give you Tony’s number.”

Red shrugged and walked away, phone to his ear. Frank, meanwhile, was staring at Strange in astonishment.

“You know Tony Stark?”

Stephen laughed, only wincing slightly. “You could say that.”

“And you  _ like _ him?”

“You could say that.”

Which, again, clarified nothing and just made Frank more confused. Red walked over before Strange could make any more confusing remarks.

“Clint says Stark will be here soon.”

Strange nodded, a shiver passing through his body. Frank cursed, remembering what he had said about blood loss and cold.

“Are you sure you’re not going to pass out before Stark gets here?”

Strange shrugged, rubbing his arms. “...yes.” Frank rolled his eyes and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it at Strange.

“There, use that.”

Strange stared at the leather, a confused frown on his face. After a moment, he shrugged again and pulled it around his shoulders. They all stood there - or sat, in Strange’s case - awkwardly for a moment. Eventually, Frank broke the silence.

“So how’d you get yourself into this situation, anyway?”

Strange waved a shaking hand. “I heard about them taking people hostage for human trafficking. There was something off about it, so I went to check it out. I didn’t expect them to be able to counter my spells.” He glared at the two bodies on the floor. “They even managed to get rid of my cloak.”

“Your cloak?” Frank asked. Strange nodded.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine. It can take care of itself until I can find it,” he said. Frank wasn’t sure if he was reassuring himself or him and Red. Also, it was a cloak. It couldn’t take care of itself. It didn’t  _ have _ to.

Red tilted his head, listening. Frank tensed, a hand going to his gun. If any of the men were waking up, they were going to get a painful surprise. Red shot him a look that somehow managed to convey disappointment. Frank grumbled and barely resisted sticking his tongue out because he was a  _ mature adult _ .

“Stark is almost here,” Red reported.

Sure enough, a minute later Iron Man walked into the room. A replicate armor was behind him. The first one opened and Tony Stark, in all his glory, stepped out. He immediately rushed towards Strange.

“Jesus Christ, Stephen, what have you managed to do this time?”

“He has some cracked ribs, a concussion, a few shallow cuts on his torso, and you should get him warm before he gets hypothermia,” Red listed off. 

“I was stopping a human trafficking ring!” Stephen protested at the same time. “And it’s only a minor concussion!” Stark looked between the two.

“Right. Well, as much as I hate to say it, I’m going to have to listen to the Devil on this one. You could have died, Stephen. You should have at least called one of us in for backup.”

Strange rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you always do that.”

Stark threw his hands up. “You’re terrible, how dare you.” He gestured to the second Iron Man suit. “Get in and give the kind man back his jacket.” He glanced at Frank, then paused and did a double take.

“Wait. You’re the Punisher.”

Frank narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

Stark shrugged. “Oh, nothing, it’s just that you  _ gave my boyfriend your jacket _ ? And I thought you were dead? And more murderous, and generally  _ not _ the type of person to give away his jacket?” Red tilted his head, as if he was agreeing, and Frank glared at him.

“I didn’t want him to freeze!” he defended.

“I’m not your boyfriend!” Stephen said, though he didn’t actually look that upset about it.

“That’s disappointing,” Stark muttered. Frank resisted the urge to gag and helped Strange up, taking his jacket in the process.

Red stepped forward. “You need to get Stephen medical attention,” he said. Strange practically stumbled into his Iron Man armor/carrier, further emphasizing Red’s point.

Stark saluted, stepping back into his own armor. “I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I don’t make a habit of socializing with murderers and Satan,” he said as both Iron Man armors took off. Red looked like he was debating the merits of flipping him off. Frank took one for the team and did.

They were back on the rooftops when Red spoke again.

“You know, I’m kind of offended.”

Frank glanced at him. “What?”

Red shrugged. “I mean, you barely knew him for half an hour and yet you were giving him your coat. You never give your coat to me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Red laughed.

“Seriously, though. I’ve nearly died so many times in your presence and  _ I’ve _ never gotten your jacket.” He paused. “Is it because I’m not pretty?”

“I haven’t even seen your face!”

“So that would be a yes?” Red asked innocently. Frank groaned.

“I hate you.”

Red tilted his head. “No, you don’t.”

Frank wondered if it would be rude to push him into a dumpster on their way back to Hell’s Kitchen.


End file.
